Page 132 of What The Hex (The Family Spells)
“Schatten will watch over Hex. In the event of an emergency, he can take him straight to Hael. Boogeymen are good at that, skirting the boundaries of the Fire Veil.” Monster looked back over at Argent, and I sensed a strange and brewing bromance between the two of them.
Was it even possible? No, clearly I’d had too much eggnog and was starting to hallucinate (non-alcoholic eggnog, but still).
“Only in an extreme emergency,” I said with a scoff. “Taking Hex to Hael is as good an idea as taking Argent to Faerie. I assume you have a plan?”
“Always,” my husband replied, cocking his head to one side and offering me up a cool smile. “The queen can be practical when need be. She’ll want something from me. I’m sure it’ll be something awful, but I know we can strike a bargain. Just so long as you and the wolf aren’t around, we can come to some sort of agreement.”
“Why does it feel like I’m sending you there to die?” I whispered, rubbing at my face with both hands. Because, really, that’s what it felt like. I was almost certain that I was going to regret this.
I suppose I should have been more worried about myself, but that’s what love does to a person. I was worried about Hex and Argent and … even Monster, I guess.
I wasn’t worried about me.
And I should have been.
Because by the end of the weekend, I’d be in Faerie, too.
Just not by choice.
We stayed in the lodge together that night, and I saw the boys off at the front door in the early morning. They were going to take Abel’s SUV and drive up the road into the national park before bailing out to finish the journey to the faerie ring on foot.
I was already crying and trying to pretend like everything was just fine.
I’d kissed Argent and Hex so much that my lips were swollen, and still, I found myself glancing over at Monster more than I should have. The hex is wrong with you, Grace Spells? Cats and bats, you’re losing your damn mind.
Monster was not, and could never be, anything more than he was.
A lost cause. A broken promise. A melancholic memory.
If Caine hadn’t steered me away from the door and over to Abel’s mate’s minivan, I might have used a spell to pull the SUV right back into the parking lot. Maybe I wasn’t ready to let them go just yet? Maybe there was a way to hire a fae messenger to do all the negotiating for us?
Only, I knew there wasn’t.
If Argent wanted something from the Seelie Queen, he was going to have to ask her face-to-face. He knew his mother well enough to understand that.
That was the point of this spell, wasn’t it? Of any spell, really. The objects themselves were meaningless; it was the intent, the purpose, the energy behind each item that channeled the magic where it needed to go.
These ‘artifacts’ that we had to acquire from our families, they were drenched in painful pasts, bad memories, good memories, misunderstandings, love, anger, trust, fear, you name it. If a living, thinking being could feel it, it was attached to the item.
That is what this spell was about.
Not much of a surprise, considering the enormity of it.
If casting that spell to remove my mother’s curse had knocked us out for an entire month, what would happen when we cast this one?
I could hardly bear to think about it.
Caine, Spectre, and I packed up the kids and headed to Raeanne’s house with Connard. I had Hex’s familiar, and he had mine. That way, we had at least some form of communication available between us.
“Where are they now?” I asked the small black cat, and he gave me a look, his orange eyes so similar to Hex’s that it was almost disconcerting.
“Ms. Spells, I like you very much, you know that, don’t you?” He was sitting on my shoulder as I made my way up the steps to Raeanne’s front door. “But if you ask me that again, I will scratch you. Or, at the very least, I will pee on something that has great meaning to you. They haven’t yet entered the faerie ring. Trust that when they do, I’ll report back.”
He hopped off my shoulder and onto the porch railing.
“You’re not coming in?” I asked as Caine and Spectre moved past me, ushering the kids inside along with our luggage. I shifted my bag on my shoulder as Connard offered up another sympathetic yet somehow scathing look.
Fucking asshole cat.
“I’d rather sleep in the snow, to be quite honest. Although I’m thrilled that Hex isn’t here—he’s an insufferable idiot—I also don’t wish to spend my time trapped indoors with a bunch of dogs. Now, don’t get me wrong, I do like Caine, but he’s the exception, not the rule. I despise canines.” Connard sat prettily on the porch railing and twitched his tail. “If you have anymore questions … ask Bastet.”
